


bound in obedience

by smilebackwards



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Ella Enchanted Fusion, Consent Issues, Curse of Obedience, Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 12:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28653747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilebackwards/pseuds/smilebackwards
Summary: Clave vs. Lightwood, 1996...For the crimes committed by Robert Lightwood and Maryse Trueblood Lightwood under the auspices of the Circle, they are hereby sentenced to forty years of service in exile and their heir to the next generation shall be bound in obedience. Such is the will of the Angel, so shall it be.
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 198
Kudos: 454





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The consent issues in this fic are due to the obedience curse and are non-sexual except for a kiss. None of the consent issues are with Magnus.

Clave vs. Lightwood, 1996  
_...For the crimes committed by Robert Lightwood and Maryse Trueblood Lightwood under the auspices of the Circle, they are hereby sentenced to forty years of service in exile and their heir to the next generation shall be bound in obedience. Such is the will of the Angel, so shall it be._

-

Alec is twelve years old when his life falls apart. 

It’s the day after his rune ceremony, deflect fresh and dark on his neck, when his mother puts her hand on his cheek and says, “Alec. Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

Alec looks at the tears standing in her eyes and feels his heart stop. Lightwoods don’t cry. _Maryse_ Lightwood certainly doesn’t cry. 

“We have to go to the Council chamber,” she says. “You need to be strong, Alec.”

“I will,” Alec promises. This has been the refrain his whole life. Maryse never says it to Isabelle, even though it’s Isabelle who’ll inherit the Institute. His parents had seen something lacking in Alec young. Maybe that’s why they only say it to Alec. Isabelle doesn’t need to be asked for a virtue she already possesses.

“I have something for you,” Maryse says, reaching for Alec’s hand. She ties a strip of soft leather around his wrist and Alec looks down at the sharp-tipped rune etched on the surface. Not strength. Fortitude. 

Maryse keeps her hand on Alec’s shoulder all the way to the Council chamber. His father is there, waiting, and someone else: Consul Greenlake. Alec memorized all the Council members and their roles with Isabelle even though he’d been exempted from the lessons. 

“I don’t understand why the Head duties aren’t going to you,” Isabelle had said, blowing her dark bangs off her face in frustration. “I want to go to the Iron Sisters and you’re so much better at this anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Izzy,” Alec had said. He hadn’t known what else to say.

“It isn’t your fault, Alec,” Isabelle had said, fiercely. “I don’t understand, but I know it isn’t _your_ fault.”

Consul Greenlake looks at Alec gravely. “Alec,” she says. “Congratulations on your rune ceremony.”

“Thank you,” Alec says. Consul is a travel heavy position. Alec’s seen Consul Greenlake in the Institute dozens of times for meetings and sit reps. But it doesn’t explain why _he’s_ here.

“This is archaic,” Robert spits. “Our sins should not be visited on our son.”

“The Council rejected your appeals,” Consul Greenlake says, stonily. “The Law is hard, but it is the Law.”

“Alec,” Maryse says, and Alec turns to look at her. He doesn’t understand but he understands enough to feel cold, to know that something terrible is about to happen. “You know that we’re in exile from Idris. That your father and I are serving a sentence for our participation in the crimes of the Circle.”

“Yes,” Alec says. His family has been in disgrace almost longer than he’s been alive. 

“There’s a part of our sentence that was held in reserve, that couldn’t be executed until today.” She inhales deeply. “As our heir, you are to be bound in obedience.”

Alec takes a step backward in shock. “But that’s…” 

That’s just a story, he wants to say. A warning trainers give to the new recruits: follow orders or the Clave will mark you with the obedience rune. No one uses that. Alec doesn’t even know what it looks like. It’s censored out of the Gray Book, more taboo even than the agony rune.

“It’s not a common punishment,” Consul Greenlake allows.

“It’s because we cost Inquisitor Whitbow’s son his life,” Maryse says hollowly. “He wanted an eye for an eye.”

Consul Greenlake draws her stele. It shines like a knife in her hand.

“The rune should go somewhere unobtrusive,” Robert says, stepping forward. “His lower back maybe.”

“It’s to go over his heart,” Consul Greenlake says, pitiless.

Alec takes off his shirt. _Be strong,_ his mother told him, and now he understands why. Alec’s entire life will be on the edge of a knife. _Jump off a bridge,_ someone could tell him tomorrow, without even meaning it, and he will. 

_Tell me your secrets._

_Kill._

Alec was never going to be Head of the Institute. He’ll never be a senior field operative or weapons master. He could never be trusted to a leadership position with this kind of weakness. He wonders if they’ll let him leave the Institute at all.

Consul Greenlake shatters Alec’s future with three swift strokes over his heart. It burns like fire but Alec doesn’t make a sound. He clenches his hands behind his back, one thumb over the rune on his leather amulet. Fortitude.

“The details of the verdict will remain sealed as you requested,” Consul Greenlake says when it’s done. “Security level 1. Accessible to Council members only.” She looks at Maryse. “He’s required to have it reactivated annually for efficacy.”

Maryse draws her steele across Alec's heart. “Alec,” his mother says, and gives him his first order: “Never tell anyone about your obedience.”

_Twelve Years Later_

“You’re all extremely lucky,” Isabelle says airily to the newly minted Downworld Cabinet. “You get to work with my very best deputy.” She nudges Alec forward. “This is my brother, Alec.”

Alec isn’t really a deputy Head, Izzy just likes to pretend he has a title because she thinks he deserves it. And since their parents are in Idris for the next year, as Acting Head she can do what she likes.

“Nice to meet you,” Alec says, lamely, his eyes caught on the warlock representative. His hair is swept up, tipped with blue, and his shirt is unbuttoned halfway down his chest, revealing a tangle of gold necklaces and golden skin. Alec feels his throat go suddenly dry. 

“Charmed,” the warlock says, with a teasing smile. “I’m Magnus.” He reaches for Alec’s hand and a jolt runs through Alec like a shock of electricity. He barely hears the other introductions: Meliorn for the Seelies, Raphael for the vampires, Maia for the wolves.

“Be nice,” Isabelle says, winking, as she turns to leave. Alec feels his obedience rune burn but the order wasn’t directed to him solely, and that’s enough to hold him to politeness without forcing him to be saccharine. 

“Are you and Isabelle twins?” Meliorn asks curiously.

“No,” Alec says, leading everyone over to the table. “I’m two years older.”

Maia frowns. “Then why—,” she cuts herself off but the question is clear. Shadowhunter legacy is well known for going by age unless there’s a scandal involved.

“Why am I your liaison and not Acting Head?” Alec asks. 

Meliorn tips his head in acknowledgement. Raphael is staring fixedly at Alec, clearly invested in the answer. Beside him, Magnus is playing with his phone but Alec knows polite pretense when he sees it.

“I have certain defects which preclude me from higher leadership,” Alec says. And then, so no one has to follow up with the obvious next question, “Being gay for one.” It’s not the primary reason of course but Alec knows, if things had been different, it’s something he wouldn’t have been able to say as easily. One reason at least to be grateful for his lack of placement in the Institute hierarchy he supposes, to be grateful for the guilt his parents express in indulgence.

Alec thinks his mother was actually glad when he came out. He hadn’t shown any obvious flaws until then and people had looked curiously on the choice to skip over him in favor of Isabelle. Afterwards, everyone had nodded their heads, as if they understood. 

“Isabelle thought that would be okay with you,” Alec says, a little cautiously. Isabelle is an amazing Acting Head but sometimes she makes assumptions when it comes to political nuance.

“Of course,” Maia says. “God, sorry the nephilim are bastards about it.”

“It’s all right,” Alec says. He’s used to the glances and whispers. The way Isabelle and Jace close ranks around him makes up for most things. “Do you have any questions for me before we start?” he asks Raphael and Magnus, because it seems only fair to give everyone a chance at him before they settle into the minutia of what the Downworld Cabinet might actually do. Any progress will rely on a strong foundation of, if not trust, at least respect between all the members. 

“I do,” Magnus says, very seriously. “Would you like to go for a drink with me sometime?”

Alec nods. “Sure. If you’re more comfortable talking one on one, that’s fine.”

Raphael snorts. “Oh this should be good.”

Magnus smiles and holds out his phone. “May I have your phone number?”

Alec taps it in for him and hands it back. A moment later his own phone pings and Alec looks at it to see two sparkle emojis bracketing a smiley face with hearts for eyes. “Oh,” he says, flushing. “Did you mean...”

Magnus smiles again, somehow brighter. It makes Alec’s knees feel a little weak. He’s glad he’s sitting down so he doesn’t embarrass himself. “Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?” 

More than that, getting close to anyone is particularly dangerous for Alec. People who are close talk and the more words anyone says to Alec, the more chance he has of being given an order even if it’s in all naivety, meant with every kindness. 

Alec knows how much it would kill Jace and Isabelle to learn that any time they said, “Come _on,_ Alec,” he’d had to acquiesce due to more than their pleading eyes. How much worse might it be for a lover? Alec’s never been tempted enough to find out. In Alec’s experience, the things he wants are also the things he should be most wary of trying to have.

Raphael gives a sharp-toothed smile. “I rather think your sister and Meliorn have already crossed that particular Rubicon. Magnus would only be evening the scales for the warlocks. I don’t suppose you have another sibling for Maia and I to vy for?”

 _Oh,_ Alec thinks, dispiritedly. Of course. There’s nothing about Alec that could appeal to someone like Magnus except for his position and the political sway that might come with it. He’s about to play it off as the joke it apparently is, let Raphael know that he can try for Jace although he’s unlikely to be interested.

But Magnus gives Raphael a sharp glare and says, quickly, “I assure you, my interest is purely personal.” His hand is over Alec’s on the table. Alec isn’t sure when that happened.

“Okay.” Alec clears his throat. They’ve gotten off track. Maybe it will never really matter anyway. Maybe Magnus is just flirting, a harmless, aimless overture to see what Alec will do. What Alec’s going to do is what he always does: his job. “I— I made an agenda.”

“I’m sure we’d love to see it,” Magnus says, warmly.

-

Magnus calls Alec less than an hour after the Cabinet meeting ends. 

Alec falls fast and hard. A week after they met, Magnus has taken him to Paris and San Francisco and a little Ethiopian place on 44th that serves fatira that Alec wants to eat every day for the rest of his life.

In Tokyo, Alec orders _makizushi_ in fluent Japanese and Magnus looks at him in a way that few people have ever looked at Alec. Like he’s worth something. Like they _like_ him.

“You’re a man of many talents, Alexander,” Magnus says.

Alec tries not to let the smile fall off his face. The reason he can speak eight languages isn’t interest or aptitude. It’s entirely self-defense. 

When Alec and his mother were first testing the boundaries of the obedience rune, they’d discovered that it was directionally and verbally based. Alec can hear orders given to other people without needing to follow them himself. He can read written orders without feeling the sharp pull behind his heart. But verbal orders given to him, no matter the language, Alec has to follow.

“ _Mache drei Schritte vorwärts_ ,” Maryse had said to him, before Alec learned German, and Alec will never forget the horror of feeling the sharp burning in his chest without knowing what it was he had to do to make it stop. 

There are hundreds of languages spoken in New York alone. Alec will never really be safe, but he’s always tried to give himself the best odds he can.

“I aim to please, Mr. Bane,” Alec says.

Magnus traces a finger lightly down Alec’s cheek. “I can’t even tell you how wildly you’re succeeding.” 

Alec reaches to catch Magnus’s retreating hand and says, “Maybe you’d like to show me?”

Alec didn’t think he’d have to be the bold one after the way Magnus asked him out all of five seconds after meeting him, but he thinks now that he’s going to have to be. Two weeks of globe hopping and romantic dinners, walks down the Seine and lunches in the park, and still Magnus hasn’t kissed him.

It’s Alec’s fault he’s sure. Missed and mixed signals. Dating isn’t something Alec does as a rule. 

Alec is skittish with people, always waiting for an order. _Kiss me,_ Magnus could have said and Alec would have but then all of this would have been over. Alec would have remembered why he shouldn’t—couldn’t—do this.

But Magnus hasn’t said that. Two weeks and he’s never given Alec an order. Not so much as _come with me_ or _meet me at six._ It makes Alec feel treacherously optimistic, like he could have this. _Angel,_ Alec thinks, _please, let me have this._

Alec’s first kiss was in a club.

“Come on,” Izzy had said, a laughing order but an order nonetheless and Alec had gone with her and Jace on one of the excursions they loved to sneak out for. The lights were bright and hot and Alec lost sight of Jace and Izzy almost immediately. 

A girl came up beside him and looped her arms around his neck, pulling him out to the dance floor. “Kiss me,” she’d said, stumbling against him. 

Alec had tried to make himself believe he hadn’t heard the order over the music but the rune burned on his skin. He’d tried to brush a quick kiss to her cheek, just enough to count. “No, kiss me here,” she’d said, laughing, a finger to her lips. 

She’d tasted like cherry gloss and Alec had thrown up in the bathroom, sick in ways he didn’t know how to explain.

Jace found him there later, sat on the vaguely sticky floor, staring blankly at the tile. “Alec,” he’d said, sounding scared in a way Jace never sounded. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Alec had said, because he didn’t know what else to say.

Magnus is staring at Alec, breath caught. He looks like Alec feels. _Kiss me,_ Alec could say, clearly, but Alec chooses his words more carefully than that. Alec avoids giving people orders unless he has to, even though he knows they wouldn’t have to follow them like he does.

Alec leans forward, an offering. He wants a better memory. He wants a memory with Magnus. A real first kiss. One he chose; that they both chose.

Magnus breathes out in a long, soft sigh. His lips meet Alec’s so gently Alec feels like his heart could burst with tender affection, the first bloom of love that it’s probably too early to claim. Magnus tastes like magic and Alec smiles against his lips. _You’re everything I wanted,_ he thinks. Everything Alec thought he’d never get to have.

He presses closer, tugs Magnus toward him by the lapels of his fancy, beautiful coat. Magnus drinks him in like Alec’s water and Magnus has been dying of thirst. _You’ve unlocked something in me,_ Magnus told him and Alec thinks, _Yeah. Yeah, me too._


	2. Chapter 2

The first meeting of the Downworld Cabinet decided that their main focus point should be the repeal of some of the most unjust laws written into the Accords and Alec is ready to give it his all. The best way to get around ‘the Law is hard, but it is the Law’ has always been to actually change the law. 

Alec pulls out his dog-eared copy of the Covenant and opens it to the first of ten sticky notes emerging perpendicular from the pages. This copy has been in the Lightwood family for generations but Alec doesn’t think anyone else ever got much use out of it. It’d been tattered and dusty when his father retrieved it from the family library so Alec could use it in his law classes. Alec lovingly oiled and restored the binding but he’ll admit he was hell on the pages. His highlights and 2 a.m. coffee-fueled margin notations are everywhere.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, slowly. “Did you mark up a copy of the Covenant?”

“Yeah,” Alec says. He’d swear half his law classmates never even read it from the asinine positions they tried to hold in debates. Alec and Lydia used to demolish people in mock trials. Samuel Darkgrave actually walked out halfway through Alec’s turn at prosecution. 

“Where are you going?” Alec had asked, confused. He’d still had three hours of arguments.

“The Cemetery of the fucking Disgraced, Lightwood,” Sam had said. “Have some goddamn mercy on the next poor soul you cross-examine.”

Alec had, because he’d been ordered to, but Alec’s version of mercy in court was to allow an opposing witness three extra seconds of stuttering before he eviscerated them. 

“Repealing the exclusion of Downworlders from Shadowhunter celebrations and mournings would probably be helpful with integration efforts,” Alec tells the Cabinet, “but I have some other thoughts if you want to rank priorities.” Habeas corpus is frankly a mess. And the outdated illegality of disallowing Downworlders from living or working within five miles of consecrated ground has always been a thorn in everyone’s side, Downworld and Shadowhunters alike. No one wants to go through a round of cruel and pointless evictions every time a mundane priest decides to bless somewhere. The New York Institute used to just pretend ignorance but the most recent audit by the Clave has made that impossible going forward.

“Why is this law prohibiting werewolves from gathering in groups of more than fifty crossed out?” Maia asks, thumbing through Alec’s equally worn copy of the Accords.

“That was repealed in the 2018 session,” Alec says. 

“It says A. Lightwood vs Clave,” Maia presses, reading Alec’s notation. It’s written in all caps. Alec was proud.

“I led the litigation,” Alec explains. 

He’d been sixteen when he’d gone on a patrol to flush a Moloch demon out of Central Park and overheard a conversation between two werewolves sitting on a park bench about how they wouldn’t be able to invite half their family to their wedding due to the law. Alec never forgot it.

The Council looked like they were sucking lemons when Alec ran down his list of citations, starting with be fruitful and multiply, which the Clave liked to trot out constantly in an effort to keep birth rates high, and concluding with a segment of venerated Consul Larkspur’s post-King’s War victory speech that “all shall be able to rejoice together in great numbers”. Anyone could have argued that his line of reasoning was dubious and only meant to apply to nephilim, but civil war with the Downworld was held off mainly by the thin pretense that the Accords were structured based on equality rather than an imbalance of power that had always favored Raziel’s children.

Alec’s lucky the Council members turn over every five years and it’s doubtful anyone has the time or inclination to dig up his parents’ Circle sentencing. If anyone knew about Alec’s obedience rune he probably would have been ordered to cease and desist his civil politicking.

Alec had graduated _summa cum laude_ and with full knowledge of what it felt like to be forced to live under unreasonable laws.

There’s not actually any structured pathway to distribute information about legal changes to the Downworld, Alec realizes. They probably have next to no idea whether the legal battles in the hallowed halls of the Clave are shoring up or stripping their rights. Maybe Alec should draft a quarterly newsletter or something. It would probably be useful for Shadowhunters too. Jace has always glazed over after about two minutes of Alec trying to explain anything to do with reform law.

“My law degree is actually the main reason Isabelle chose me as the Downworld liaison,” Alec says. He hopes everyone didn’t assume it was straight nepotism. “Lydia and I always planned to bring some of this to the Clave but we were both pulled to active Institute duty.” Which probably wasn’t a coincidence.

Alec turns to Magnus. “That reminds me. My friend Lydia asked me to tell you hello. Her grandfather was Henry Branwell and you’ve always been one of her heroes.”

“Henry Branwell,” Magnus says with pleased reminiscence. “I haven’t thought of him in ages.”

Alec tries not to let that sting. Someday that’s all he’ll be to Magnus too, a pleasant mortal memory. He clears his throat. “Lydia’s planning to visit New York in a few weeks to help me with any depositions. You should meet her.”

Magnus smiles. “I’d love to meet your friend, Alexander. She sounds lovely.”

Lydia is lovely. She can also gut someone with a stiletto when the occasion calls for it. Alec’s missed her a lot.

“Great,” he says. “So where do you want to start?”

-

Pandemonium isn’t somewhere Alec ever wanted to go, but Magnus is there holding court tonight and when he’d asked Alec if he might be able to swing by after patrol, a pleading-eyed emoji at the end of the text, Alec didn’t have it in him to say no. 

“We’re going to Pandemonium?” Jace asks, checking, after the rest of the squad has started to make their way back to the Institute. 

Alec shoves him in the shoulder. “ _I’m_ going to Pandemonium,” he says. “Magnus asked me.”

Jace smiles his most shit-eating grin and slings an arm over Alec’s shoulders. “ _Oh_ ,” he says. “Well if Magnus asked then, yeah, I understand. But I’m coming too.”

“Fine,” Alec says, rolling his eyes. Jace will never let him hear the end of it either way and he’ll probably just fuck off to drink at the bar while keeping a weather eye out for Alec. 

Pandemonium is only a few streets south of where their patrol route ends but when Jace and Alec turn the corner that brings it into view, the entry line is stretched almost halfway down the block. Jace whistles, “Your boyfriend’s club is popular.”

Alec tries not to flush at the term boyfriend. It’s not like it’s not true. He and Magnus agreed on the label and exclusivity weeks ago. Relationships come with a lot of conversations Alec never expected but every time he talks to Izzy about them she makes a pleased, high-pitched noise and throws her arms around him and Magnus seems happy so Alec figures things are going okay. 

They’re just stepping into the end of the line when one of the werewolves stationed at the entry door looks up and starts to walk toward them. Alec can feel Jace shift into defensive stance, legs braced, and kicks him in the heel. “Stop it,” he hisses. “We’re not getting into a fight in front of Magnus’s club.”

“Is everything okay?” Alec asks when the bouncer reaches them. He doesn’t think there’s a no Shadowhunters policy considering Magnus specifically asked him to come down, but he’s not sure what else could be the problem.

“Of course,” the werewolf says deferentially. He’s wearing a name badge that reads ‘Lance’ and he loops a gold VIP band around Alec’s wrist while Alec stares. “The boss asked us to keep an eye out for you.”

He turns to walk away and it takes Alec a second to realize that he’s supposed to follow, that Magnus asked them to keep an eye out so Alec could skip the line. Jace looks like all his birthdays have come early. “Alec,” he says. “ _Alec_.”

Alec ignores him as Lance holds the door open for them and points up to the table Magnus is sitting at. “Thanks,” Alec says. Jace is hanging off his shoulder, laughing. “Any time would be a great time to stop being embarrassing,” Alec tells him.

“I’m sorry,” Jace says, still laughing. “It’s just... He’s so into you. I’m glad you found someone like that, really Alec.”

Alec turns away to hide his smile. He isn’t used to being noticed, thought of, although usually that’s for the best.

The most successful way to avoid the power of the obedience rune, Alec always found, was to be invisible. If no one thought of him, looked at him, expected anything of him, they wouldn’t order him to do anything. It’s lucky that he’s always been able to fade into the background, pale next to the twin supernovas that are Isabelle and Jace.

But Shadowhunter society is built around orders. Alec couldn’t always rely on neglect to be his ally. He can remember with terrible clarity the first time he really understood what the obedience rune would mean for him.

“Faster, Alec,” Hodge had ordered, his hands up as Alec tried to land a blow. Alec’s muscles burned, his eyes stung with sweat, but it was nothing to the way the obedience rune hurt; a feeling like a red-hot fish hook caught behind his heart. 

“Good,” Hodge praised, as if Alec had a choice. As if his body were even allowed to disobey. 

Hodge handed him his bow. “Shoot,” he said and Alec shot a bullseye. “Again. Keep going.” Hodge said, moving away from the range to work with another trainee.

Jace found Alec there four hours later, arms shaking with fatigue, blood running down his ungauntleted wrists. 

“Alec,” he said, horrified. “Alec, stop.”

Alec let his bow clatter to the floor, relief surging through him.

“Alec,” Jace said, voice gentle. That was something Alec had taught him, that it was okay to be kind. Jace tore a strip off the bottom of his shirt and wrapped it around the welts Alec had given himself from his bowstring. “Alec, why didn’t you stop?”

“I don’t know,” Alec lied, because he wasn’t allowed to say the truth, not even to his brother.

Alec has begged his mother a hundred times. “Just let me tell Jace. Just Isabelle. _Please_.”

The answer has always been no. Once the secret’s out, Maryse can’t control who Isabelle or Jace might tell the way she can control Alec. And if Maryse won’t even let Alec tell his sister, his _parabatai_ , she’ll never let him tell Magnus. It feels like a lie, caught forever in Alec’s throat. 

“Dance with me,” a Seelie says, catching Alec’s wrist as Alec tries to push his way through the dancefloor to Magnus’s table.

Alec feels bile rise in his throat. _Kiss me._ “I’m here with someone,” he says, doing a quick box step, just enough to count, and runs.

“Alexander,” Magnus says warmly when Alec finally reaches him. He stands and brushes a soft kiss to Alec’s lips. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he adds even though Alec is just in his black on black patrol clothes. Magnus looks gorgeous as usual, in a coat hemmed with gold thread.

Alec tries to surreptitiously rub a bit of ichor off the cuff of his sweater. “Hey,” he says. “I missed you.” Which, in retrospect, was probably a dumb thing to admit. Alec saw Magnus last night. But Magnus looks touched, fond, soft in a way that Alec abruptly realizes maybe he shouldn’t in front of the warlocks he’s sitting with, their eyes sharp on Alec.

“I apologize for interrupting,” Alec says. “Magnus, I’ll just wait?” He points to an open seat a table over. He can see Jace’s blond head, lost to the bar as expected, but he’ll probably make his way over to Alec once he gets his drink.

Magnus gives him another soft kiss. “Thank you. We’re almost done. Katya can grab you a drink if you want anything,” he says, tipping his head toward a Seelie waitress.

Alec settles in to wait. There isn’t much to do aside from people-watch but Alec tries not to catch anyone's eye. He’s been called unnerving and it would probably be magnified two-fold here, a Shadowhunter in a Downworld club. 

Alec can feel it in reverse, the sting of unwelcoming eyes against his back. It was the same the first time he’d gone to the Hunter’s Moon with the Downworld Cabinet. “I don’t think anyone’s quite ready for community outreach,” Maia had said pessimistically, “but it might be good to let people get used to seeing you in neutral spaces.”

The patrons had been less than enthused. Alec had three glasses of beer spilled on him between the bar and the bathroom. It had taken Magnus’s arm, draped casual and proprietary across the back of Alec’s chair, to turn the harsh gazes away. 

But things had gradually gotten better as Alec came to be a familiar presence, drinking Cosmopolitans at the bar with Maia and not stabbing anyone. And Alec’s pride, and the Institute’s petty cash, could handle the goodwill losing a few games of pool cost.

Last week someone had even asked for Institute help with a missing persons case. Alec had written up an incident report on a bar napkin.

Alec wonders if it could be the same here. Magnus does a lot of business in Pandemonium. Out of the corner of his eye, Alec can see him still talking with the three warlocks. His hand is on one of their elbows in a comforting way that tells Alec it’s about more than a professional deal or some esoteric conversation about warding practices; something’s gone wrong.

Suddenly, there’s a man in front of Alec in a rush of vampire speed. Alec manages not to pull his seraph blade on instinct but it’s a close thing.

“Leave, Shadowhunter,” the vampire spits. “You’re not welcome here.”

_Fuck_ , Alec thinks, turning automatically toward the door. An order. He’ll have to go outside and then come back in. He hopes Magnus doesn’t see and think he’s really leaving, that Alec couldn’t wait five minutes for his attention.

He stands up, hands out in proof that he’s unarmed. “That’s fine,” he says. “I don’t want any trouble.” He can see Jace pushing his way toward him and Alec shakes his head. _Stay back._

Blue magic wreathes the vampire like tongues of flame and he’s forced face-down onto the table Alec was sitting at. Magnus looks entirely calm, which is how Alec knows he’s livid. “I’m not sure I heard what you just said to my boyfriend,” he croons softly. “Would you like to say it again?”

It’s a rhetorical question. The vampire is being pulled up by security and bundled off toward the door a second later. 

“Alexander,” Magnus says, “are you all right?”

“Yeah,” Alec says, trying not to grimace around the burning in his chest. _Leave, Shadowhunter._ “Magnus, I’m sorry, I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to,” Magnus says, his eyes sad, because he doesn’t understand.

“Just…I just need some air,” Alec says, with a sudden burst of inspiration. 

“We could go to my office,” Magnus offers immediately. “It’s very quiet. We can talk.”

That would count as leaving the dancefloor but Alec doesn’t think it would count for leaving the club. The obedience rune is a bitch and he’s guessed wrongly about how closely it might hold to wording before. Alec doesn’t think he has time to guess wrongly here. It hurts like his heart is caught in vise and being held over an open flame at the same time. He can feel himself starting to sweat, the edges of his vision turning black. Alec’s never had to find out what happens if he passes out before he can complete an order and he never wants to.

“Magnus, please. I need to _leave_ ,” Alec says. He doesn’t want to push past Magnus, doesn’t want to see the hurt that will engender in his eyes, but in a few seconds he’s going to have to.

“All right,” Magnus says. He looks like he wants to touch Alec but he doesn’t. “Can I come with you?”

“Your business?” Alec says, but when he looks the warlocks are gone from the table. 

“Complete.”

Alec’s breath comes out easier for a second, but then it feels like there are knives in his lungs again. “Yes,” he says, tugging Magnus by the sleeve, “you can come with me.”

People part as Magnus guides Alec quickly toward the exit door. Alec hates the idea that he’s making Magnus look weak in front of the Downworld. That he’s making Magnus think that Alec wouldn’t choose to go blind from the lights, deaf from the music, if the reward was to be near Magnus for one more second. But Alec’s vision is so dark it’s like he’s walking through a veil. He feels like he’s underwater, at the bottom of the ocean, muffled and cold.

Pushing through the exit door is like breaking the surface of water. Alec gasps, great heaving breaths of freedom, the obedience rune settling back into neutral. Alec can feel himself being lowered carefully to sit on the ground. “It’s all right,” Magnus is saying. “Alexander, you’re all right.”

“I’m all right,” Alec repeats, trying to be reassuring for Magnus in return, but his head is between his knees and he’s pretty sure he’s not succeeding. 

There’s the sound of the door clattering open again and Jace shouting, “Alec!”

“We’re over here, Jace,” Magnus says, softer. 

Alec raises his head and blinks his eyes open. They must have gone out a back door. The alleyway is narrower and there’s thankfully no line of aspiring club goers to witness Alec’s humiliation. 

Jace kneels in front of Alec, hands reaching out to grasp his shoulders. “I haven’t seen you have a panic attack in a long time,” he says, worried.

Jace has never actually seen Alec have a panic attack but it was the closest analogy he could offer during the few similar instances when he couldn’t say ‘I’m not accomplishing this order fast enough and my obedience rune is punishing me for it.’

“I’m okay,” Alec says, pushing himself up off the ground. Jace gets a shoulder under his arm to help him. “Could I talk to Magnus for a second? Alone?”

“Yeah. Sure,” Jace says, and steps away to play with his phone and pretend he isn’t watching like the overprotective hawk of a _parabatai_ that he is.

Alec reaches out for Magnus and Magnus grasps his hand immediately. His palms are hot, like the blue fire of his magic is lurking restlessly just under the surface. “I’m sorry for that.”

“It’s nothing to be sorry for,” Magnus says. “I’m sorry someone triggered that response in you in my club. I won’t ask you to meet me here again.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Alec says. “It was just a one time thing. I’m fine.” He twists the gold band settled on his wrist. It’s sleek and bright, a sharp contrast to the faded brown leather of Alec’s fortitude amulet layered beneath it. “VIP, huh?”

“You _are_ very important to me, Alexander,” Magnus says, softly.

“How did they even know who I was to give me this?” 

“I described you to them,” Magnus says. “Tall. Dark hair. Gorgeous.” He pauses to kiss the deflect rune on Alec’s neck, making Alec shiver with the intimacy. 

“Could I come over to the loft tomorrow?” Alec asks. He’ll never be sorry to see Magnus but he feels drained, shocky. He knows he won’t be good company the rest of the night.

“Of course,” Magnus says. “You’re always welcome, Alexander.”

-

Alec loves Magnus’s loft. 

He feels safe here, just the two of them. Magnus’s speech cadence with Alec never includes orders. He magicks the door open instead of saying _come in. Have a drink_ is a hip lean against the drinks cart and, “Would you like something, darling?”

Alec has never been anyone’s darling. He likes the way the word sounds in Magnus’s mouth. He likes that he could be someone it applies to. “Could you say that again?” Alec blurts out instead of asking for a martini like a normal person.

Magnus raises his eyes, smiling. “Would you like something?” He’s used to repetition by now. Alec finds him very distracting.

“No, I mean— I heard what you said,” Alec says. Angel, it’s truly unfair that he was cursed with natural awkwardness alongside the obedience. 

Understanding dawns in Magnus’s eyes. “Darling?” he says, utterly delighted. The drinks cart is abandoned as he slinks over to Alec, his hips looking almost liquid. “Do you like when I call you darling, my darling Alexander?” Magnus purrs, arms coming up around Alec’s neck.

The dryness in Alec’s throat is hard to speak around. “Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

“Good,” Magnus says. He leans in close to Alec’s ear and whispers, “Darling.” Presses a kiss to the edge of Alec’s jaw with a, “Sweetheart.” Introduces just a hint of teeth at his neck with, “ _Sayang_.”

Alec shivers. “What does that one mean?” he asks, quiet.

Magnus leans back. “Darling,” he says. “In Indonesian.”

Alec knows what’s going to be his ninth language. He wonders how to say _I love you_. If maybe Magnus will teach him someday. 

“Is everything okay with the warlocks?” Alec asks. “It looked like you were having a pretty intense conversation yesterday.” Before Alec had scuttled the night with his order-induced race for the exit.

Magnus sighs. “Sadly, no. There’s been a death. Deaths, rather. Plural. Amata Rivka and Johannes Bahorel.”

“I’m sorry,” Alec says. “What happened?” Immortality means it could only have been an accident or deliberate murder.

“It’s not entirely clear,” Magnus says, turning to walk back to the drinks cart. He pours something gold-red out of a crystal decanter and sips before he speaks again, “They were found on 26th, behind the apothecary. Not a mark on them except that they were drenched in each other’s magical signatures. The implication is that they killed each other.”

“Were they enemies for some reason?”

Magnus shakes his head. “Quite the opposite. I’ve been asked to look into it as High Warlock.”

“Well if anyone can figure out what happened, it’s you,” Alec says, loyally.

Magnus smiles at him, lopsided and not quite real. “I do appreciate your faith in me.”

Alec takes it for the conversation ender that it is. He crosses the room so he’s close to Magnus again, rests his hand behind Magnus’s neck and strokes his thumb across the tendon there until some of the tension leeches away. “Is there something I can do to help take your mind off it?” 

Magnus leans forward against his chest and sighs. “Can you stay tonight? We could watch a movie? Cuddle on the couch?”

Alec presses a kiss to Magnus’s temple. “Of course.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bumping the rating up to Mature but there's nothing explicit.

Alec tells Magnus he loves him on the twenty third of March. He thinks maybe he should’ve waited for Magnus to say it first but it’s been true for so long now that Alec can’t hold it in any more. Another pressure behind his heart, for once a pleasure and not a pain.

“I love you too, Alexander,” Magnus returns with gratifying speed. Alec wonders if he was waiting too, for Alec to say it first.

Alec kisses him, a little too hard. His lips always feel pulled toward Magnus like a particularly strong magnet. “Sorry,” Alec says, easing back, but Magnus doesn’t let him go. Alec finds himself flat on his back on the leather couch, Magnus braced over him. It’s a nice place to be.

Alec untucks Magnus’s shirt so he can run his hands up the warm, smooth plane of Magnus’s back and Magnus follows his lead, nudging his hands beneath the hem of Alec’s black t-shirt. Alec wonders if tonight is the night Magnus will finally take him to bed for more than some heavy petting or chaste sleeping, tucked into each other’s arms. When Alec arches up, he can feel Magnus’s hardness through the fabric of his jeans.

Magnus backs off abruptly to the corner of the couch, his eyes flashing gold before fading to warm, familiar brown.

“Is everything okay?” Alec asks, sitting up.

“Before we go any further, we should talk,” Magnus says.

“Okay,” Alec says. He can feel himself trembling and he’s sure Magnus could too. Alec wants this but he’s afraid of what could happen. He spends his whole life afraid of what could happen but this has the potential to be so much worse. This could happen to Magnus too; an unthinking, in-the-moment order that he’d never consider Alec had to follow as gospel.

Magnus puts a hand to Alec’s cheek. “I only ever want to be good to you. If you want to move this to bed…”

“I do,” Alec says, so there’s no confusion.

Magnus smiles at him. “I do too, darling. But I want to be good to you,” he repeats. “Is there anything specific you want to try? That you don’t want to try?”

“I don’t want you to give me any orders,” Alec blurts out. Angel, he’s so thankful that Magnus asked. That he always _asks._ In four months, Magnus has never once spoken to Alec in the imperative. _Tell me,_ someone else would have said. _Tell me what you want. Tell me what you don’t want._ And Alec would have had to feel that terrible hook behind his breastbone, to spill out all his desires like an overturned cup. 

“Of course,” Magnus says, nodding. “I’m sure you get plenty of those at work. No need to bring them into the bedroom.”

Alec can feel his heart beating too fast. Magnus makes him feel so much, all the time. Alec wants so much from him. He wants him so much.

“Thank you,” Alec says, closing his eyes. “Thank you for always asking me for things. You don’t know what that means to me, Magnus.”

Magnus strokes a gentling hand down Alec’s side. He sounds worried when he says, “You don’t have to thank me for that, darling. I always want you to feel comfortable with me. I never want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“I have to do things I don’t want to do all the time,” Alec says. The words feel like razor blades exiting his throat and he’s not sure if it’s because he’s gotten so close to the truth he’s not allowed to say or just because it always hurts so much, the way he’s pulled on puppet strings, dancing to anyone’s tune. 

He’s so tired. The fortitude rune on his amulet is worn away almost to invisibility. Alec doesn’t know sometimes, he doesn’t know how much longer he can do this. It crashes over him like a wave, sudden and inescapable, and Alec folds in on himself, his face in his hands like that will hide from Magnus that he’s weeping.

Magnus pulls Alec in against his chest and Alec wraps his arms around the solidity of his shoulders, presses his face into the soft, sweet skin of Magnus’s neck.

Magnus pets his hair and makes soothing sounds. “Lilith, what do they do to you in that horrible Institute?” 

Alec lets Magnus hold him until he can feel himself stop shaking. He focuses on breathing, in and out, in and out, the way he used to do with Jace when they were young after his nightmares. 

When he’s calm, Alec leans back, far enough to see Magnus’s face without having to leave the circle of his arms.

“You make me feel safe,” Alec says unthinkingly, and then winces. Not the sexiest thing he could have said. He has a feeling the night isn’t going to end the way he was hoping. “I mean, sorry, you make me feel a lot of other things too—”

“Darling,” Magnus says, putting a finger to Alec’s lips. “It means _everything_ to me that you feel safe with me.” His eyes shine with the truth of it.

It took Alec a long time to realize that Magnus wasn’t just careful with him because things were new. That Magnus was always going to be careful with him. Alec was raised to be a honed blade, but Magnus treats him like something delicate, precious. He wants to deserve it.

“I’m sorry I ruined the mood,” Alec says.

“You did no such thing,” Magnus refutes. “This is an important conversation and we’re having it.”

“I know,” Alec says, “but you’re not going to fuck me tonight, are you?” His voice comes out more plaintive than he means for it to.

Magnus slams his eyes closed, breathing gone shallow. He stays like that for a long time, until Alec says, “Magnus, are you okay?”

“Yes,” Magnus says, but his voice is strained and his eyes are still closed.

“Are you sure?” Alec asks, concerned. He puts his hands over the ridges of Magnus’s cheekbones and sweeps his thumbs carefully across the thin skin of Magnus’s eyelids.

Magnus breathes out in a long, slow exhale and his lashes flutter open. “I’m sure, darling. Lets finish our conversation and we’ll see how things look in the morning, hm?”

“All right,” Alec says, laying a kiss to the center of Magnus’s palm. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Alexander.”

-

“Did you finally get laid?” Jace hisses at Alec when he arrives for his shift the next morning, on time, which is two hours late by Alec time. Admittedly, Alec does feel like sunlight is pouring out of him. He can’t stop smiling. 

“Goodness, you have a lovely afterglow,” Magnus had told him, indulgently, after he’d made love to Alec, sweet and slow with dawn breaking across the sky. 

Alec had tucked in close to him, bending his neck to fit his head beneath Magnus’s chin. “It was great. You’re beautiful,” he’d said, a repetition he wanted Magnus to hear. When Magnus had lost control over his glamour and looked at Alec with the slit-pupiled gold eyes of his warlock mark, Alec had seen the question in them, as clearly as if he were speaking: _do you still feel safe with me?_

The answer of course had been yes. 

“It’s been months,” Jace says, without waiting for the answer to his question. “What were you waiting for?”

“Magnus was, like, respecting me,” Alec says, irritated. “Shut up.”

Jace shuts up. It’s harsh rhetoric coming from Alec who almost never gives orders outside the field.

Alec sighs. “It’s just...it was nice. He’s really nice and it was important to me. Please don’t minimize it.”

“I’m sorry,” Jace says, putting a hand on Alec’s shoulder. He smiles, tentative. “I’m glad for you.”

“Thanks,” Alec mutters, turning away to hide his blush. He doesn’t know why he bothers, with Jace. This close, with the magnitude of what Alec feels, there’s practically no barrier between what flows across the _parabatai_ bond.

“So,” Jace says, “not to ruin your morning, but there was some kind of incident last night. Izzy called an all-hands meeting in the briefing room in twenty minutes.”

“Shit,” Alec says. The last all-hands meeting had been when Valentine re-emerged three years ago and that had taken the combined forces of the New York, Boston, and D.C. Institutes to squash before it repeated history and turned into the kind of rebellion that got labelled in capitals and ended in sanctions and the Gard for all involved. 

Alec puts his hand over his heart, his own souvenir from the last Uprising. When Magnus made love to him that morning, he’d pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to all of Alec’s runes. Except, “Not that one,” Alec had said, when Magnus reached the obedience rune on his chest, guiding Magnus’s hand to cover the rune so he didn’t have to see it, the worst part of his life out of sight while Alec reveled in the best part.

Alec suspects that Magnus has a black market copy of the Gray Book—forbidden to Downworlders—but the obedience rune has always been censored out. He still couldn’t know what it means. 

Jace nods. “Yeah.”

“You don’t know what it’s about?” Alec asks.

Jace shrugs. “No idea. My patrol went fine last night.” He glances around the Ops floor which is functioning in peaceful competence. “Nothing seems to be on fire.”

Alec knows from experience that everything can look fine on the exterior while, beneath the surface, the foundations are crumbling. “Let’s go,” he says. Alec wants to be in the front row, a steady presence for Isabelle even if that’s all he can do to help her.

When Isabelle steps up onto the dias she looks so like their mother, untouched and untouchable. Alec feels a surge of pride rivaled only by how much he wants to help her take down the severe updo of her hair, braid it into pigtails for her like he used to when she was ten and the whole of the New York Institute wasn’t heavy on her shoulders. Sometimes what Alec hates most about his obedience isn’t what it took from him but what it took from Isabelle; all Alec’s burdens as heir passed unwillingly down to her.

“Good morning,” Isabelle says, hands clasped behind her back. Her posture is ramrod straight. “I have some unfortunate news to bear. Last night, Shadowhunters Havelock and Mayweather were found dead outside The Rose Castle.”

The Rose Castle is a mundane bar frequented by Shadowhunters. Alec waits. It’s terrible, but there are funerals almost every month. Shadowhunter isn’t a job with a particularly long life expectancy. He can see others coming to the same conclusion, glancing at each other in confusion.

Isabelle continues, “They— By all indications, they killed each other.”

_That_ causes an uproar. Death by demon is par for the course. The occasional rogue vampire or werewolf. But there hasn’t been a Shadowhunter on Shadowhunter death since Valentine.

“Are you _sure_?” someone asks.

“There was no demonic residue found on the bodies or at the scene,” Isabelle says. Alec knows she’ll have double and triple checked the autopsy results herself. “I know this is upsetting. That’s why I wanted everyone to hear it from me and not through the grapevine. A full investigation will be carried out by the Clave. I expect and appreciate everyone’s cooperation as it’s conducted. Thank you.”

The Shadowhunters file out of the room quietly, with military strict bearing. Alec waits until they’re all gone to offer Isabelle his arms. She goes into them bonelessly, pressing her face to his chest. 

“Alec, it’s awful,” she says. “Havelock died of a seraph blade to the heart, self-inflicted. Mayweather was from blunt force trauma.”

Alec swallows. It takes a lot of blunt force to kill a Shadowhunter.

“I’m so sorry, Izzy,” he says, tightening his arms around her. Jace puts a steadying hand at her back. “You’re being so strong.”

Isabelle scoffs. “Yes, crying all over my brothers as soon as no one can see.”

“You don’t have to be Maryse 2.0 in front of us,” Jace says. “You know that, Izzy.”

Alec didn’t know Havelock or Mayweather well but he knew them glancingly, like he knows most everyone in the Institute. He would have said they were friends. That they killed each other makes no logical sense.

Alec feels something cold slide down his spine. Magnus’s warlocks—Rivka and Bahorel—had been friends too by all accounts. Right up until they killed each other. Magnus had exhausted every lead and always come back to the same conclusion. 

“Izzy,” Alec says. “Something similar happened with two warlocks a few weeks ago. Magnus looked into it and didn’t find any outside influence but I’ll ask the rest of the Downworld Cabinet. Maybe there’s some kind of pattern.” 

Isabelle wipes carefully at her eyes, somehow managing to unsmudge her makeup. “Thanks, Alec. I have to go file the autopsy report with the Clave.”

And write the condolence letters home, Alec thinks, wincing. Mayweather had two kids back in Idris.

“All right,” Alec says quietly and watches her walk away from him, head up, until she turns the corner to the Ops floor and the click of her heels fades away.

-

The next Downworld Cabinet meeting isn’t scheduled for two weeks so Alec calls an emergency ad hoc meeting. Maia is out of town but she sends Luke in her place.

“It might just be a coincidence,” Alec says, after he’s explained about the Shadowhunters and Magnus has recapped the details of the warlock deaths. They’d discussed Rivka and Bahorel after it happened but it hadn’t seemed to interact with any other Downworld business.

Luke shakes his head. “It would be harder to tell with the wolves. Fights aren’t uncommon and sometimes they’re to the death. I can check in with some of the neighboring packs.”

“Vampires might be out of touch for decades before anyone thinks to worry,” Raphael says.

“It’s the same for warlocks,” Magnus adds. “If the bodies hadn’t been left on the street, it could have been years before anyone wondered about Rivka or Bahorel.”

Alec turns to where Meliorn has been sitting contemplatively in the corner. 

“There was an incident last week in the Court,” Meliorn says, slowly. “Two Seelie Knights. It was assumed that it was a duel of honor. But it was odd that they didn’t bring seconds.”

Alec breathes out a harsh exhalation, frustrated. “I don’t even know what we could tell people. There’s been no evidence of anything demonic surrounding the deaths, no real connections. We could start a panic over what turn out to be isolated events.” With something like this, usually they’d recommend everyone travel in pairs for safety but pairs seem to be precisely the problem.

Magnus puts a hand on his arm. “We’ll tell people the truth and to be extra vigilant. Sometimes that’s all we can do, darling.”

Alec nods. He only wishes that wasn’t the case.

-

Spring gives way to summer with little fanfare. There’s a week’s crisis with a Dahak demon nest in Harlem but no more reported deaths by friendly fire. Alec feels like he should still be at high vigilance but he can’t help but relax with the lack of action and the new way he gets to sleep in Magnus’s arms every night, comfortable and content.

Alec moved into the loft in June.

“You can bring more of your things over, you know, darling,” Magnus had said encouragingly, the week after they’d made it official, his eyes on the rather pitiful sliver of his closet that was now occupied by Alec’s limited wardrobe. 

“These _are_ my things,” Alec said, trying not to feel embarrassed.

His old room at the Institute was bare, already requisitioned to a new recruit. Alec’s clothes were in Magnus’s closet. His books were in the bookshelf in the den. His personal weapons were on the cherry wood rack Magnus conjured by the door. 

Most of Alec’s life was always communal. Uniforms and shared weaponry were inventoried and parcelled out by the quartermaster. Alec didn’t own furniture or dishes. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner were in the mess hall, served on plain white ceramics that Alec, Jace, and Izzy had all washed for years, flicking soap bubbles into each other’s faces, while they eagerly awaited their chance to move from support staff to foot soldiers. 

Magnus, by contrast, had a hundred beautiful jackets. Trinkets from every corner of the world. Sparkling new plates any time Alec opened the kitchen cupboards. 

Magnus turned with an expression of apology on his face and Alec couldn’t do anything but kiss it away immediately. Alec knew from the beginning that he’d always be plain standing beside Magnus who fairly brimmed with color and charm but it’s never been _Magnus_ who made Alec feel lacking. Magnus looks at him like he’s made of silver and gold, encrusted in diamond and ruby, all polished and shining.

Shopping works its way into their lives rather more often after that. “This would look lovely on you,” Magnus says, eager and often, about shirts and jackets and a pair of too-tight jeans that Alec agreed to because of the way Magnus’s jaw physically dropped when he came out of the dressing room.

Alec is used to the sound of Magnus’s black Amex being authorized at cash registers now. He thinks the only item of clothing Magnus has never purchased for him is jewelry. 

Alec tugs at the Pandemonium VIP bracelet he keeps hidden underneath his leather fortitude amulet as he eyes the jewelry scattered across the top of Magnus’s dresser. The plastic edges chafe his wrist sometimes but Alec doesn’t mind a little irritation. It’s nothing to the warm glow Alec feels when he pulls the leather aside to look at the strip of still-bright gold and remember how Magnus said to him, “You _are_ very important to me, Alexander.”

Magnus comes out of the bathroom, hair and makeup immaculate, and follows Alec’s line of sight. “Did you want to borrow something?” Magnus asks, looking delighted. “I think you’d look stunning with a bit of gold. Or…” He trails off, looking at the jewelry littering the dresser.

“What?” Alec asks. He’d been considering a gold necklace with a set of small triangular charms, easily tucked beneath his shirt to warm against his skin, but having Magnus choose for him is a much better option.

Magnus picks up two silver rings and Alec feels his breath catch. They’re entirely recognizable as Magnus’s to anyone that knows him, stamped with the curled letters of his name. “Would you like to wear these?”

Alec’s not sure how he finds the breath to whisper, “Yes.”

Magnus slides the M over Alec’s middle finger. Alec can feel it resize slightly as it settles just above his knuckle. The B slides onto his thumb, heavier than Alec expected.

Magnus turns Alec’s hand to better see how the rings sit. His hand is hot against Alec’s and Alec thinks Magnus might lean down and brush a kiss to his knuckles, courtly and old-world, but Magnus just swallows, throat working, and says, “They look perfect on you, darling.”

Alec moves to cup his hand behind Magnus’s neck, flexing his fingers to make sure Magnus can feel the cool silver of the rings against his skin, and kisses him.

-

He isn’t surprised that Isabelle is the first to notice.

“Let me see your hand,” Isabelle orders and Alec’s hand comes up automatically, before his obedience rune can even activate.

Isabelle probably gives Alec the most orders of anyone but he’d never begrudge her. Alec knows, from the first twelve years of his life, before the obedience rune was etched into his skin, that anything Izzy asks he would have given her regardless.

Isabelle presses her thumb against the flat silver surface of the M. “I can’t decide if this is better or worse than the engagement ring I expected.”

Alec chokes. “Engagement— We’re not getting engaged.” 

Sure Alec’s _thought_ about it, but that was before Magnus told him he’d never been married. Alec is going to respect that. If Magnus ever does get married, he probably wants it to be to another immortal. Alec could only ever promise him til death do them part and he knows Magnus finds that depressing because the one time he’d brought it up, Magnus had disappeared down a bottle for three days.

“Alec,” Isabelle says. “You’re wearing Magnus’s rings.”

“But that isn’t what they _mean_ ,” Alec says, twisting the B around his thumb. It hadn’t escaped his notice that Magnus had deliberately avoided sliding either ring onto Alec’s fourth finger, where a wedding ring might sit.

“Isn’t it?” Isabelle asks.

It echoes in Alec’s head that night when he’s back at the loft, cool and quiet without Magnus’s warm, swirling presence. Alec sits straight-backed at the kitchen table, twisting the rings around his fingers. He should take them off now. They were only a loan, Magnus didn’t mean for Alec to keep them. 

But Alec _wants_ to. He wants something he’s not even sure he could name. 

Alec still hasn’t convinced himself to remove the rings by the time Magnus waltzes through the door, dropping a kiss to Alec’s upturned lips. “There’s a party I’d like to take you to tonight if you don’t have a patrol,” he says.

“Sure,” Alec says, even though parties make him nervous as fuck. Dozens of new people who could walk up to him and say literally anything at any given moment. Alec’s been invited to two weddings and innumerable barbeques and dinner parties since he communicated the repeal of the Clave law preventing werewolves from assembling in groups of more than fifty, along with the few other wins they’ve eked out since, and he’s so grateful, he’s so glad to make any headway with Shadowhunter-Downworld relations, but it’s utterly nerve-wracking. Alec can live with _have a beer_ even though he hates the taste of IPA. _Come see the garden_ isn’t a hardship. But it’s only a matter of time before someone orders him to do something less innocuous. 

Still, to have Magnus show him off—his voice proud, hand steady on the small of Alec’s back—Alec would risk a lot for that. 

Warlock parties are somehow, inevitably, in beautiful mansions and townhomes and this one is no different. Alec cranes his neck to stare up the columns holding up three stories of stone as Magnus accepts the welcoming cheek kiss of the hostess. 

“Darling,” Magnus says, smiling and holding out his hand to pull Alec inside. The sight of Alec with his runes used to cause a ripple of confusion and concern, but he’s been around long enough now that most people hardly give him a second glance. 

Catarina catches his eye and waves them over. “Magnus. Alec,” she says, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks.

“Is he here?” Magnus asks her, looking around anxiously. “He told me he’d be here.”

Catarina rolls her eyes. “Yes, Ragnor is here. I imagine he’s hiding in the library by now.” She smiles at Alec. “Ragnor’s threshold for socialization is rather low.” 

Alec can fully sympathize. Even without the constant underlying anxiety of the obedience rune, Alec isn’t much for large gatherings.

“Hold onto Alec for me,” Magnus says, as if Alec would wade out into the sea of unknown warlocks of his own accord instead of clinging to the kind familiarity of Catarina.

“Ragnor’s important to you both, huh?” Alec asks Catarina as he watches Magnus head off in search of him, warlocks parting to allow Magnus through almost unconsciously. Ragnor features in so many of Magnus’s stories, a dry and pragmatic voice. Alec feels a sort of kindred spirit in him for all that they’ve never met.

“He is,” Catarina confirms. “And I’m sure he’ll like you immensely.”

They chat about Madzie, a favorite topic for them both, until Alec sees Magnus headed back toward them, towing a warlock with a long-suffering face behind him.

“ _This_ ,” Magnus presents, “is my extremely elusive friend Ragnor.”

Alec holds out his hand to shake. “Alec Lightwood.”

Ragnor is wearing a wine red cravat that matches the shade of the two horns emerging from either side of his forehead. He looks at Alec carefully for a long moment. It’s something Alec’s noticed a lot of warlocks tend to do. A long slow blink, like they’re shifting to look at him with a different set of eyes.

“Goodness, Magnus,” Ragnor says, his voice full of the same kind of glee Alec is used to from Isabelle. “I heard that you’d made a declaration but I didn’t realize you’d made a _declaration_.”

Alec imagines Magnus would be blushing if Magnus could still blush after several centuries of debauchery and misdemeanors.

“Ragnor,” he hisses, looking sidelong at Alec.

“What do you mean?” Alec asks, curious. Catrina had smirked when she caught sight of Magnus’s rings still circled around Alec’s fingers but Ragnor hadn’t been looking at Alec’s hands.

Ragnor opens his mouth but Magnus cuts in. “ _I’ll_ explain, thank you, you unhelpful cabbage of a warlock,” he says, shoving Ragnor toward Catarina and pulling Alec aside.

“What did he mean?” Alec asks again.

Magnus clears his throat and makes a twisting motion around his left thumb, spinning a ring that isn’t there. 

“We’re together often enough that my magical signature has taken to lingering on your skin. It’s utterly unconscious, I assure you, but it lets people know you’re mine,” Magnus says. “Under my protection, I mean,” he adds quickly, backtracking.

“I am yours,” Alec says. “I don’t mind who knows.” He _wants_ people to know. He wants _Magnus_ to _want_ people to know.

Magnus pushes him against the wall and kisses him, his hands a warm frame around Alec’s face.

_Yeah,_ Alec thinks, pulling Magnus even closer against him and smiling into his mouth as the wolf whistles start up. _Like that._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That dramatic angst I promised.

Alec is polishing off another plate of fatira while Magnus sips coffee and smiles at him and it hits him, suddenly, how goddamn _happy_ he is.

There’s a candle in the center of their table and the flickering light paints Magnus in orange and gold. He’s the most beautiful thing Alec’s ever seen.

Magnus reaches across the table to take Alec’s left hand and spin the signet ring on Alec’s thumb, a gesture he’s taken to now that his rings so often adorn Alec’s fingers instead of his own.

Alec had divested himself of the rings after that first day with a hesitation he hadn’t meant for Magnus to see, but Magnus tended to notice things about Alec in a way most people never have, or never cared to.

“Wear those whenever you’d like, darling,” Magnus said in that way he sometimes had where he sounded careless but Alec could tell he was anything but. And then he’d _stopped wearing them_ so they were just waiting there on the dresser every morning, the polished silver flashing at Alec enticingly. 

Alec is a person with extreme reserves of self control. With the one major exception of anything related to Magnus. He’d put the rings on again and never stopped, M and B staring up at him from his left hand every day. It’s the closest he’ll get to what he wants with Magnus and it’s enough. It’s enough.

“Are you ready to head home, darling?” Magnus asks and Alec nods, swallowing his last few bites while Magnus settles the bill with the usual effusive compliments and 50% this-is-our- _favorite_ -place-Elias gratuity.

Alec takes a deep breath when they step outside. It’s a beautiful night, the streets quiet and empty as everyone seeks the waiting welcome of their beds. Alec threads his fingers through Magnus’s again, swinging their hands lightly between them as they walk just to see Magnus smile. The way his eyes crinkle makes something in Alec’s chest clench.

“Well aren’t the two of _you_ a pair?” a drawling voice says, interrupting the moment.

Alec turns to follow it to its source and Magnus is suddenly in front of him, one arm stretched out across Alec’s chest like a shield. His hands are lit with blue flames. “Sammael,” Magnus says, coldly.

At first glance, Sammael is a tall man in a crisp black business suit, but Alec can tell there’s something _wrong_ about him. Out of the corner of his eye, the man’s face twists and darkens. Alec’s voyance rune stings. His skin feels tight and creeping.

Sammael looks faintly surprised to be recognized. He peers at Magnus curiously for a moment, then snaps his fingers. “That’s right! You’re Asmodeus’s little brat. Now that just makes this even more fun.”

Alec manifests his bow and quiver on his back because this is obviously going nowhere good. “What precisely,” he says slowly, “is _this_?”

“Hunting, of course,” Sammael says, seeming puzzled at needing to explain. “Death. It’s quite delicious you know.”

“We won’t be offering it to you,” Magnus says, his voice tight.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Sammael says, calmly. “I’m going to inspire you. I’m really very good at it. I thought you might have noticed by now. People seem to have become rather wary.”

“You killed Rivka and Bahorel,” Magnus says.

Sammael shrugs carelessly. “Probably. I’ve killed quite a lot of people.”

“But there was no demonic residue at any of the scenes,” Alec protests.

“Well I didn’t have to _do_ anything,” Sammael says. “Just air a few secrets.” He twists his wrist casually. “Betrayals. Love affairs. People will kill each other over anything.”

That wouldn’t have been enough to alert on the sensors, Alec acknowledges. If the sensitivity were set to alarm any time a demon had so much as stood somewhere, every inch of New York would light up red on the scans. 

Alec feels his stomach swoop sickly. Is that what happened then? All those bodies, warlocks and Seelies and Shadowhunters. Had they killed each other over secrets, dragged suddenly and devastatingly into the light? 

Magnus breaks the tableau abruptly, blasting Sammael with a fireball from one hand and starting to open a portal with the other. “Alec!”

Alec isn’t going to run. Not without Magnus. He looses an arrow that should take the demon straight through the neck but Sammael bats it away like a particularly untroublesome fly.

“You would make me work for it, wouldn’t you?” Sammael sighs. “So like your father.” He lifts a hand and Magnus’s body mirrors the motion, rising half a foot off the ground, surrounded by a cloudy green aura. Magnus looks furious. His hands are in fists at his sides, wreathed in impotent blue magic.

“Let’s see what the two of you have for me to work with, why don’t we?” Sammael says. He stares at Magnus as if his eyes can peel back his heart.

Magnus manages to move his right fist forward but Sammael waves a hand and he goes still again.

“Surprisingly mundane for a warlock,” Sammael says, disappointedly. “He’s been carrying around a ring box for a month,” he tells Alec. “And trying to find a way to make you immortal longer than that but he’s afraid to ask if you’d even consider it.”

Alec feels his heart in his throat. He looks at Magnus wide-eyed. Magnus was going to ask Alec to marry him? And not just for a mortal lifetime, for _forever_. It’s everything Alec wants except that Magnus hadn’t felt ready yet to offer it to him.

“But yours, little Shadowhunter,” Sammael laughs. “Oh, your secret is _much_ more juicy.”

Alec’s blood runs cold. _No,_ he thinks. _Angel, no_. Alec would trust Magnus with any secret he had, if only he could, but it’s going to be Alec’s secret that kills them.

The sick green color of Sammael’s magic stays focused on Magnus but he turns to Alec, eyes flashing with cold mirth. “Shoot him.”

Alec’s fingers reach for an arrow automatically before he marshals his will and snatches them back. His mother performed his required annual rune reactivation only a week ago. It always leaves him touchy and oversensitive to orders until Alec starts to wrestle his obedience back, to retrain it with his tricks of semantics and subversion. 

Magnus stares at Alec in shock. Alec knows Magnus saw his fingers twitch and he feels the familiar swift rush of shame sweep over him, more painful than the burn of the obedience rune.

Sammael isn’t smiling anymore. “Shoot him,” he says again, with more intent.

Alec’s hand tightens on his bow without his consent. He pulls an arrow from his quiver. The slowness of the draw is the only resistance he can manage. The rune feels like a brand, like a knife through his heart. Alec hopes it kills him.

“Please,” he begs, even though he knows it won’t be enough. “Please tell me not to do it.”

“Shoot him.”

Alec shoots. A graze along Magnus’s upper arm, just enough to count.

Magnus stares at the blood on his sleeve and then at Alec’s broken face. Alec can’t stand his stricken expression; bitterness, betrayal, anything would be better than the sheer devastation looking out of Magnus’s eyes. Alec lets the tears spring up until Magnus is just a blur of black and gold. Magnus always looked good in gold.

Sammael clicks his tongue. “You know that’s not what I meant, Alexander. Aim again.”

Alec’s bow comes back up. His vision clears.

“He would have said yes to your proposal if it makes you feel any better,” Sammael tells Magnus with false sympathy. “It’s really too bad about that rune. And the nephilim claim that _we_ have no mercy.”

Alec can see the pieces fall together behind Magnus’s eyes. The way Alec’s bow is shaking in his hands. The rune over his heart that they don’t talk about. How Alec asked Magnus never to give him orders and then wept like a child in his arms. 

“You’re under a curse,” Magnus whispers, and it’s not quite true but it may as well be. A curse, a compulsion, a punishment. It all means that Alec’s will isn’t his own, that he has an arrow pointed at the throat of the person he loves most in the world and someone’s going to make him shoot it with only the power of a few paltry words that Alec can’t withstand.

“ _Kill him_ ,” Sammael orders.

There’s no ambiguity for Alec to leverage. It’s the clearest order he’s ever received in his life and the one he’s always feared the most.

Alec breathes deep. _Be strong,_ he tells himself. He’s never needed the old mantra more than now.

Alec can feel the burn over his heart twist and stretch, heat flowing down his arms, trying to make his fingers move. _No,_ Alec thinks. _No, I won’t._ He thinks of Magnus portaling them to Tokyo, all the bright lights and sounds that made Alec’s head spin until Magnus had anchored him with a hand at the small of Alec’s back. The way Magnus looked at him, soft and open, his fingers light against the pulse of Alec’s wrist, the very first time he said _I love you._ The way he said it later, eyes wide and unglamored: _aku cinta kamu._

 _You make me feel safe,_ Alec had told him and he wants so badly for the reverse to be true. To keep Magnus safe from himself.

Something wet drops onto Alec’s forearm, warm and red. Alec can taste the blood in the back of his throat. His head is splitting like someone’s taken an axe to it.

“Alexander,” someone is shouting but Alec’s hearing is swimming in and out so badly he can’t tell if it’s Magnus or Sammael. “—xander!” 

“I won’t do it,” Alec says, so softly probably only he can hear. Despite the pain, he feels suddenly light. He _won’t_ do it. He’ll never hurt Magnus. 

Fingers gone nerveless, Alec’s bow falls to the pavement. He follows it down to his knees.

Alec can hear a scuffle, feel the heat-burn of magic against his face, but he doesn’t have the strength to turn and see what’s happening. Magnus is winning, he thinks, if only to comfort himself. Magnus will be okay. 

Alec wants that more than anything in the world. He wants it more than his own life. Alec will let his heart burn to ash if only Magnus will be all right. 

Alec’s vision is dark at the edges but Magnus comes into focus at the center of his gaze. _Thank the Angel,_ Alec thinks. He can’t make his lips move to speak. What was the last thing he said to Magnus, Alec wonders with sudden anxiety. Was it the _I love you_ he deserved?

“Alexander, hold on,” Magnus says, his fingers threading through Alec’s. He presses a kiss to Alec’s knuckles. “Hold on for me, darling. _Please._ ”

It’s the only order Magnus has ever given him and Alec wants to do it. He wants to do it for him but the world spins away and takes Alec with it.

-

Waking up is a surprise.

Alec is on his back, not on cold hard concrete but on soft silk sheets he’d recognize anywhere. He blinks his eyes open. _Magnus…_

Magnus is beside him on the bed, propped up against the headboard, breathing gently in and out in sleep. He’s beautiful and Alec watches him softly until something else catches his eye. 

The obedience rune is gone.

Alec’s stares at his bared chest in incomprehension. Did Magnus somehow…? But no, he dismisses the thought. Warlocks can’t derune Shadowhunters. Even Alec has only the barest idea of how its done, a secret and sacred ritual performed by the Silent Brothers. Like the _parabatai_ ceremony but filled with sorrow instead of joy.

Alec closes his eyes and casts his mind back. The demon. The orders. The _pain_. And Magnus. Magnus who Alec could never stand to hurt. Alec remembers the way his heart burned, the way he lost consciousness to the sound of Magnus’s voice, the sight of his desperate eyes. 

And then Alec remembers too, like the fading vestiges of a dream: white light, a high, clear note. The brush of wings.

Alec prayed to Raziel for years to deliver him from his affliction. Had he finally answered? Had Alec’s love, the Angel’s most prized devotion, been enough?

“Alexander?” Magnus whispers and Alec turns to him with tears in his eyes. He looks at Magnus’s arm, healed now, but he’d been _bleeding_. Angel, Alec had _shot_ him.

“Magnus,” Alec says, gasping, “Magnus, I’m so _sorry_.” 

“Alexander,” Magnus says again, wonderingly, “You’re all right.”

Is he? Alec wonders, looking at his runeless chest. After thirteen years of obedience, is he _finally_ all right?

“The Clave had me bound with the obedience rune when I was twelve,” Alec says. The words, now that they can finally be released, come out in a torrent, tumbling all over each other. “It was punishment for my parents' involvement in the Circle. I have to follow orders, Magnus. _I have to._ And I couldn’t tell you because my mother ordered me not to.” Alec gasps, trying to pull in all the air he failed to breathe while getting that out.

Magnus’s eyes are solid gold. “They _forced_ you to follow orders? What kind of orders?”

“Anything,” Alec says. “Anything anyone ever says to me directly.” 

“Without even any parameters?” Magnus asks, horrified. “They didn’t qualify who from? They didn’t qualify that they weren’t orders that put you in danger?”

“No,” Alec confirms. He’s always blamed the Clave almost more for the hypocrisy than for the punishment. They hadn’t chosen to rune Alec’s parents who’d committed the crime. And when they’d runed Alec, they hadn’t cared to tie his sentence to the offense. No one had bothered to order him to always obey the Clave, to always follow the Covenant. Alec’s whole future was stripped from him for petty revenge.

“You had to leave Pandemonium when that vampire ordered you to,” Magnus says, his voice faint in reminiscence. “And that’s why you drank that terrible IPA that you hate. Because James told you to have a beer. I _teased_ you about it.” Magnus looks at him with such compassion. “Alexander, I’m so sorry.”

Alec probably would have drank the beer anyway, for politeness sake. He might have left Pandemonium to prevent an altercation. What he hates most is that he never even had a _choice._ That so many of his choices were stripped from him.

Something terrible crosses Magnus’s face. “Did— Did _I_ ever order you to do anything?” Alec can see him doing a frantic mental tally, reviewing everything he’s ever said to Alec, looking for any orders.

Alec shakes his head. “No. No, Magnus, you _always_ asked me for things.” He presses a kiss to the back of Magnus’s hand. “I’m so grateful for how you always asked me for things.”

“No one should ever have hurt you like that, darling,” Magnus says softly. 

“I think it’s gone, Magnus. I could finally tell you but—” Alec braces himself. Disappointment would be so bitter. “Order me to do something.”

“Alec,” Magnus says, hesitating.

“Please, Magnus. Just something small.”

Magnus opens his arms. “Come here.”

Alec goes to him automatically. “Wait, shit,” he says over Magnus’s shoulder. “Try something that I won’t want to do.”

Magnus laugh is like a sob against his neck. “Lean back.” 

“No,” Alec says. “I like it here.” It doesn’t hurt. There’s no hot, sharp pull behind his heart. His heart has never felt better, warm and fluttering, safe in Magnus’s arms. Alec lets his tears of relief soak through the fabric of Magnus’s shirt as Magnus holds him tight, pressing kisses to Alec’s hair, his neck, his shoulder. 

Eventually, Alec leans back, not because he has to but because he wants to see Magnus’s face. There’s so much more to talk about, now that he finally can, but Magnus had secrets too. 

“Magnus,” Alec says. “Did you really want…?” _To marry me._

Alec stops himself. If Magnus really wanted to, he would have asked. A ring in his pocket doesn’t mean anything unless he offers it.

Magnus’s face drops. “Darling, you deserved roses, champagne, _fireworks_. But, yes. Yes, I want.” His fingers fumble, nothing like the graceful sweeping gestures Alec is used to when Magnus uses his magic, and a small velvet box appears in his palm. “Alexander Gideon Lightwood, will you marry me?”

“Yes,” Alec says, emphatic and immediate, and kisses him, feeling the slide of metal onto his ring finger. Kissing Magnus always feels warm, whether it’s the comfort of a banked hearth or the current, passionate explosions behind his eyes. “There,” Alec says. “Fireworks.”

Magnus laughs. He twists his wrist and a spray of red rose petals flutter through the air like confetti.

“I didn’t think you wanted this,” Alec admits, looking in awe at the new ring resting on his finger. It sits in perfect alignment with the M and B framing it on either side. A large, pure diamond is recessed into the silver band in a way that won’t pose the risk of catching on weapons or clothing. “When I brought it up, you kind of…”

Magnus winces. “Drank half a gallon of whiskey?”

Alec nods.

“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to marry you, angel. It’s because I wanted it _so_ much. And it only reminded me that I’d lose you one day.”

Alec waits. Magnus has apparently been working on that too.

Magnus looks at him and then away. “The— the immortality. I wasn’t going to ask that of you. It’s selfish of me, Alec. You understand that, don’t you?”

Alec thinks of watching Isabelle and Jace go old and gray without him. Centuries of tending flowers at their silent graves. It will be terrible. A new fish hook caught behind his heart. But when Alec thinks of that for Magnus, he can’t bear it. Alec doesn’t want to be one more person for Magnus to lose.

Alec raises Magnus’s palm to his lips. “It’s not selfish. We all want someone who’ll love us forever. I will, Magnus. I’ll be that person for you. I want to be.” 

Magnus presses his face into Alec’s shoulder and breathes, short and catching. 

_I’ll make you happy,_ Alec thinks, carding his hand through Magnus’s soft, dark hair. No one can take this from him now. Alec isn’t beholden to anyone but himself. 

He knows what his mother will say. Dating Magnus was an irritating but allowable rebellion. Marriage, permanence, is something else. She might look at him sadly, preface that she’s sorry first, but she won’t be sorry enough not to order, “Alec, don’t marry Magnus Bane.”

Alec thinks he’ll let her say it. Just to see the expression on her face when it doesn’t matter, when Alec hands her an invitation and walks away. When he walks down an aisle later.

Alec isn’t going to suffer his parents’ punishment anymore and with the file decades locked and buried, he knows they’re the only ones who remember. It’s only ever been his mother who completed the efficacy reactivations of Alec’s obedience rune. Alec tried for years not to think about what it meant that she’d never never let it slide, that the rune stayed sharp and dark on his chest when it might have faded. Even the slightest loosening of his shackles would have meant everything to Alec and he isn’t sure if he’ll ever learn how to forgive her for not giving him that. 

Maryse won’t have him re-runed. Alec thinks she loves him enough for that at least. And if she doesn’t, Alec won’t stand there and take it from her and she won’t want to involve the Clave, to remind people of the Lightwood family’s censure, not now that everyone’s almost forgotten, their forty years in exile turned to twenty due to short memories and political jostling. 

Alec isn’t twelve anymore and he’s not alone anymore. He has something—someone—other than himself to fight for and it’s what he always needed. 

“Magnus,” Alec says quietly. “Can we pick a wedding date? Sometime soon?”

Magnus laughs, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’ll marry you whenever and wherever you’d like, darling. Is tomorrow too soon?”

“No,” Alec smiles. “But it might be nice to have some planning time.”

“I _would_ love to feed you cake samples and watch you get fitted for a tux,” Magnus muses. “Next month then.” Their bed is suddenly covered in calendars and fabric swatches, gold ribbon and sprigs of blue forget-me-nots. 

Alec picks up a sample invitation written in Magnus’s beautiful curled calligraphy. _You are cordially invited to the wedding of Alexander Gideon Lightwood & Magnus Bane._

Alec stares at their names side by side. Everything about them looks so good together. Alec’s future feels finally, _finally_ solid beneath his feet. “I love you,” he says, helpless to find any other words.

Magnus tucks a flower behind Alec’s ear and smiles. “I love you too, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are loved! I’m also smilebackwards on [tumblr](https://smilebackwards.tumblr.com/post/639882396224913409/bound-in-obedience-chapter-1) and [Dreamwidth.](https://smilebackwards.dreamwidth.org/)


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